


The Precious Sun

by momosansovino



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momosansovino/pseuds/momosansovino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A beautiful woman age 28 was found dead on the Kalvebod Fælled field on the outskirt of Copenhagen. She was found naked and was stabbed and then strangled to death with her own dress. Copenhagen Police was on the move...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

 

**THE PRECIOUS SUN**

 

See the mountains kiss high heaven  
And the waves clasp one another;  
No sister-flower would be forgiven  
If it disdained its brother;  
And the sunlight clasps the earth  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:  
What are all these kissings worth  
If thou kiss not me?

 

Love's Philosophy  
Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

 

 

* * *

 

2005

The rain had been furiously pouring for almost a week, and the sky showed no sign that it would stop any sooner. Copenhagen was always a dreadful place to stay during the winter. Josef could not agree more on this matter, even he himself was an outright Dane. It was 9:30 a.m. when he got on the metro, but it still felt like 5 o’clock in the morning. People said that there were always seven layers of iron-cast sky overhead blocking the sun in the winter of Copenhagen. It was a very depressing truth, and Josef had to agree with it. He could sense the appalling wind bumping on the ice-cold window as the metro moved forward. The air inside the metro carriage smelt like overnight beer and rotten sewer water. Drunkard must have just vomited. He frowned, forcing himself not to think about it. Soon, the rain began to lashing down when the metro slid into the Islands Brygge tunnel, and Josef dozed off.  
His dream of a life change moving to Copenhagen was an utter failure. Every Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights, he would be out drinking, and gradually Tuesday nights too, because on Tuesday, beer is always sold half price. He was involved in three serious bar fights in two months, and the number was very likely to increase. The worst thing was, after crashing into a utility pole on one Friday night, he had to sell his beloved bicycle, because his knees could not take any intense exercise including cycling, thanks to a ridiculously tiny surgery. He was still young though, even he let go of his weight after the accident. He would tell those pub girls that he was twenty-five, and they would believe him without a doubt, because they were just as fuck up as him.  
But Josef really was not the caring type. As he managed to jump his way to Rundetårn from the Nørreport metro station, avoiding all the big puddles on the ground, he was still in the so-called Monday coma, a result of weekend hang over. He was soaking wet when he finally opened the metal door of Rundetårn and threw himself into his chair in the tiny ticket booth. Rundetårn welcomes visitors regardless of the weather.  
Josef kept himself quite busy all day. There were still over two hundred people—not counting two groups of primary school kids—who have visited the Round Tower today, even if the rain had never stopped. He found himself admiring their persistent spirit. How could he laugh at them, when their tourist books clearly pointed out that “Rundetårn is a must-see for all visitors to Copenhagen, featuring a magnificent 360° view of the old city center, with the town hall tower and the peak of Scandic Palace in the West”? They would swarm into his little ticket booth and tear him apart. But he didn’t even need to look at the returners’ disappointed face to know that there was barely anything to see. Did they even manage to get on to the observatory platform? He doubted it.  
He cleaned his desk at 5:45 p.m., locked the booth door, and climbed the spiral walk all the way up to the top. Every day like a tourist, he was amused by his thought. When he passed the hollow core, he saw something gleaming in the darkness on the exposed brick. They are like those small stars that teachers used to stick on the forehead of the well-behaved kids. The core was a niche at the end of the spiral walk, few meters under the observatory platform. It was hollow all the way to the ground, providing an experience of standing on a glass floor, and all kids loved it. Josef dragged his body and squeezed into the narrow niche while cursing the anonymous naughty kids and their parents. It happens all the time. No matter how many PLEASE DON’T DOODLE signs they put up, tourists always find their way to express their feelings through leaving annoying marks everywhere they went. Even the locals are secretly appreciating the graffiti in the Latin corner in the Copenhagen city center. Most of them seem to believe that one day doodles and graffiti can replace the architecture; by layering them, it is possible to construct a whole city. After all, where is the sign of life if all living traces get cleaned out? WELL WELL. Not everyone has to agree with them. Josef leaned forward, and stepped on the edge of the glass floor. He tried to use his fingers to scrape the stickers off, but was unable to figure out what they were: they were more like stained paints, like small buttons sewed to the rocks, like graffiti color drops on his front door. He sighed, lifted his head, and after his eyes got use to the darkness, he saw more. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward onto the glass floor. To his bewilderment, the glass floor was gone.  
It was never there.  
He didn’t get the chance to scream. The sudden fall ripped his right leg from his crotch, while his left leg still dangling on the platform edge. The core was so narrow, but in those 3 seconds, it was not narrow enough to save his life. He swung and hit his teeth on the rough bricks. Blood streamed down from his head, while he desperately tried to hold on to something. He fell like a ground-targeting missile as his fingernails still stuck in the brick cracks.  
It was a 25m fall. He heard a voice chuckling.


	2. The body

 

_2015 2/17_

Rune Petersen bought a cup of latte from the 7-11 at the Vesterbrogade crossroad. He was late for work, but he had already made up his excuse (“It was not my intention to be late. There was a broke down on the M1 metro line”). The excuse would do just fine if they didn’t go check his bike. What kind of idiot would really come all the way down to check his bike anyway? He was confident and very satisfied by his own conclusion. As he turned his way to Bernstorffsgade, he let go the handlebar and shifted the control from his hand to his waist. The bike slid forward steadily like a graceful swan. Rune Petersen straightened the upper body and took a large sip from the coffee cup.

Five minutes later, he parked his bike at the street corner and walked towards the Copenhagen Police Headquarter. The building was a gigantic neoclassic architecture, the last of its kind inNorthern Europe. His phone was jumping like an anxious little rabbit in his pocket. It had been screaming for 20 minutes, and Rune really had a bad feeling about it. Something had happened, and he had been purposely ignoring it. He stood outside the police headquarter. The warmth from the sun was pretty decent, considering it was still early spring. He stood bathing in the light for at least five minutes, took his time finishing the last sip of his coffee, walked a few steps to toss the cup into the nearest trash can, and then finally he sighed and allowed the shadow of the police headquarter to swallow him.

The homicide division on this peculiar morning was a pot of boiling water. Everyone was jumping like the rabbit in his pocket. He could see Sigrid Ravn’s ponytail from a distance, and it was dancing happily in the air. He tried to sneak in. The head of the Homicide Squad dropped his phone when he caught the sight of Rune.

“Where the hell been you been?”He yelled.

“Sorry, boss. There was a broke down…”Rune forced a turn and walked to him, while trying to breathe in the situation, but didn’t get to finish his excuse, because Trygve waved his sentence apart.

“Rune I need you to get down to Kalvebod Fælled with the rest.”

“What? No! I just came from Ørestad.” Rune opened his eyes wide and protested. He was thinking about a nice late morning doze, bathing in the faded sunshine. A dying sun was always better than no sun.

“Well it’s your bad that you didn’t pick up your phone.”Trygve Stevnhoved said ruthlessly, “Now get your ass moving.”

Trygve Stevnhoved was a lovely man, but he could be very stubborn when situation varies, and any levelheaded man who had been working at the homicide department for sometime learned not to argue with him when he was having his seizure. He held a great passion for crime solving, however, lacked the decisive wit to actually solve any. In spite of this ignorable little defect, he was a genuine in office politics and miraculously maintained a supreme superior- subordinate relationship. Since he generously did not bug Rune for his lateness, Rune felt that he should better just go to Kalvebod Fælled willingly.

So ten minutes later, he was already smoking in a police car drove by his best co-worker, Sigrid Raven, who fed him the situation in great enthusiasm. Rune noticed that Sigrid could hardly contain her excitement. He gave her a grin. He knew exactly what she’s thinking: Christmas in February! Hardly any homicide cases took place in Copenhagen. There was nothing wrong to celebrate death. After all, the foal needed some real fieldwork once in a while to learn how to run.

“Keep your feet on the ground, Sigrid.”He said, tossed the cigarette end out of the open window.

 

Kalvebod Fælled was a no man’s land in the far south corner of the Amager Island—a field of nothing. Rune knew Amager just like he knew his hometown, because he unfortunately had been living in the Ørestad neighborhood for quite a long time, to be frank, five kilometers away from the crime scene. He was born on the Helsingør coast and for years spending his time surveilling the Swedish coastline of Helsingborg. It was a world of different shades of cobalt blue, grass green and sometimes hints of sodium yellow. The Baltic Sea was always in a mysterious phthalocyanine blue, with a thin layer of titanium white floating on top of it. As the smoke from the Swedish coast gradually rose, the translucent white fog mingled with its top. The proportion of the color may vary. Rune remembered that in winter there was always more white and the yellow was all gone, but the picture itself never changed. It inked into Rune’s memory like a sharp axe leaving its marks on a sapling.

He crawled out of the car; the wind hit him like a ludicrous man waving his sword. Sigrid swayed on her feet as the wind nearly blew her away. She looked unhealthily skinny and short. Although she was almost thirty, it is as if the time lord had left her soul in a high school girl’s body. She trembled and tossed Rune an unhappy glimpse. Rune clearly showed no reaction to the obviously mad wind.

“Hey Giant. Hey Sigrid.”A few crime scene investigators looked up and greeted them as Rune lifted the yellow DO NOT CROSS line; others were all very occupied.

“Where is it?”Sigrid asked. Rune frowned. He always opposed using the word “it”, but Sigrid never listened.

“A few meters away. Do you see that road? Right over there.”

They put on disposable shoes and took the gloves. The weather had changed. As soon as the heavy cloud buried the sun, the cold air immediately crept in like snakes quietly slithering through the grass.

There were hardly any living souls on the Kalvebod Fælled ground at this time of the year; hardly any in the Helsingør forest too. The field was wide open and all they could hear was the wind groaning like thunder. Sigrid followed Rune because his almost two meters tall body is a natural wind block. The hays were still damp due to last night’s rain, and they bended so low that it looked as if they had been chopped down by the wind. The sea was glooming not so far away, slowly ate up by the cloud.

Rune stopped and noticed something purple was tingling like a road sign. A big silk cloth. A flag. A woman was lying on the wilted meadow.

“She is stunning.”Sigrid exclaimed in a low voice, her skin was as pale as the dead body under the cool light.

Rune did not answer. The women definitely looked much younger than her real age, partly due to the almost frozen skin that stretched and smoothed out all the winkles. Moisture vapor in the air condensed into tiny droplets of water and, as the cold wind blew, they were turned into a layer of diamond-like crystals on her skin. She lay withered, well shaved and naked. The long chestnut hair scattered around her neck, and she wore the strangling tool, a tore strip from a purple silk dress, like an exquisite necklace. It was startling. There were bruises all over her body. That would keep the Autopsy team busy for some time, Rune thought. He noticed the stabbed wound on her lower abdomen and frowned.

“Such an effort.”Sigrid said for him. Rune scratched his tightly braided hair and agreed. There it is. Effort. Unnecessary effort. She held the rest of the dress on her left hand like a flag. Her legs were wide open, like…

“She is running.”Rune signed.

“Running willingly to embrace the Death.”Sigrid grinned.

“We are moving the body in two hours. It is already on the News.”The crime scene investigator interrupted.

“We will be quick.”Sigrid answered, the color of her greyish eyes mingled with the heavy cloud.

“Is she identified yet?” Rune asked.

“Yes. Kamilla Feldt.” The investigator answered.“There is a hand-written name on the label of her dress.”

Rune nodded. He put on the a pair of blue plastic gloves, and as he bent down to examine the body, Sigrid heard him whispered, “Hello Kamilla.”

**Author's Note:**

> Formula Summary
> 
>  
> 
> Murder/ body discovered
> 
>  
> 
> A beautiful woman age 28 was found dead on the Kalvebod Fælled fieldon the outskirt of Copenhagen. She was found naked and was stabbed and then strangled to death with her own dress. The police wondered whether this was arape or not?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The detective
> 
>  
> 
> Rune Petersen, the scrambled male detective who works at the homicide division in Copenhagen police force. He is almost two meters tall, hence his nickname “The Giant ”. He has long hair braided into a man bun, a beard, and hardly any traces of eyebrow. 
> 
>  
> 
> Sigrid Ravn, a smart female detective, short and skinny who also works at the homicide division. She has very pale skin, greyish eyes and always wears her long blonde hair in a ponytail. She uses Miss Dior blooming bouquet.
> 
>  
> 
> Trygve Stevnhoved, thehead of the Homicide Squad
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Details of the victim’s life/death
> 
>  
> 
> Kamilla Feldt is a stunning woman. She has a shared house with her younger brother in the outskirt Copenhagen. However normally she stays in an apartment rented by Bendt Hansen.The parents died early when they were young. Erik is diagnosed as emotionally unstable and Border line Personality Disorder.“There’s something wrong with the boy”and the welfare state claims to take care of it. Kamilla insisted that her brotheris perfectly fine and after fighting for five years Kamilla had just regained Erik’s guardianship.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Suspects
> 
>  
> 
> Bendt Hansen, a wealthy man who is currently having an affair with the victim
> 
>  
> 
> Rachel Hansen, animmigrant from the US, married to Bendt Hansen
> 
>  
> 
> Erik (Erika) Feldt, Kamilla’s younger brother
> 
>  
> 
> Bob Stevnhoved from the drug business
> 
>  
> 
> Kamilla’s “bestfriend”Minna Otzen
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Clues/plot summary
> 
>  
> 
> The police first lookedfor a rapist. 
> 
>  
> 
> Then they found out Kamilla was having an affair with Bendt from Kamilla’s brother Erik, then they thought that Bendt committed the murder because he was tired of the relationship but can not get rid of Kamilla. 
> 
>  
> 
> Rachel Hansen of courseheard about Kamilla and held deep hatred and desperation towards the matter
> 
>  
> 
> A “friend”of Kamilla told the police Kamilla’s not the person she appears to be. She’s not innocent at all. It’s better that she stays dead. She is a pub queen.
> 
>  
> 
> The relationship between Kamilla and Bendt seems not to be bonded by love, but mutual cooperation. 
> 
>  
> 
> The police looked into Bendt Hansen account and company, they found that Bendt Hansen is running illegal drug business, and Kamilla acts as the “bite”. 
> 
>  
> 
> Three days before Kamilla died, she was sent to meet up with a guy in the drug business. She suppose to seduce him but it never went as planned. 
> 
>  
> 
> Kamilla was found deadby a cyclist in Kalvebod Fælled fieldthree days later. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The story begins with aprologue. The ticket officer of Rundetårn was found dead ten years old in 2005. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Red herrings
> 
>  
> 
> The rape, some one shemet in the pub? 
> 
>  
> 
> Rachel Hansen’s hatred towards Kamilla gave her motive to kill.
> 
>  
> 
> The mysterious guy whom she was suppose to seduce
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Solutions


End file.
